


Different Needs

by Faetality



Series: Steter Bingo General Tropes 2018 [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Pack Dynamics, Pre-Relationship, Touch-Starved Peter Hale, Touch-Starved Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 10:31:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16157243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faetality/pseuds/Faetality
Summary: Touch is as essential to them as water or food.Stiles takes notice of a few things.





	Different Needs

**Author's Note:**

> General Trope square - Touch Starved Peter Hale

Wolves had a different standard than humans for almost everything, it was one of the few things that Stiles had truly gathered from his years around them. Pain, violence, loyalty, but most of all was the amount of contact they shared. Maybe if it had only been Scott or Isaac it could have been called coincidence but after Cora showed up it made three and three was a pattern. Wolves were tactile, strengthening pack bonds and evening temperaments with the closeness.  Even Derek, once beyond the trauma and distrust was always touching their shoulders and even laying his head in his sister’s lap as though it was the most natural thing in the world. So yeah, wolves didn't play by the human rules and it didn't take a genius to figure that one out. But learning the why and how of it was a little harder, the unspoken okays of that foreign dynamic. 

In the bestiary he had taken from the Argents- it wasn't stealing if they still had their copy too- under the section that seemed far too much like a how-to guide of hunter torture knowledge he noted,   
_ Removing all and complete touch will drive a werewolf mad within the span of a few months. Touch is as essential to them as water or food and to be starved of it leads them into intense periods of shaking, unstable mood, control issues and, after a period of time, physical pain.  _ _  
_ So, naturally, Stiles started taking notes. Scott and Isaac were the most touchy of the pack, at least in public, with Derek and Cora almost explicitly close to one another, though casual touches were occasionally shared with others, Scott, Boyd, and especially Isaac who was a soft spot for both the Hale siblings it seemed. 

But in the near two years that he had been around, Stiles had never seen Peter, post-resurrection, touch anyone outside of a fight. Yeah, Peter wasn’t exactly part of the pack and never really attended any of the pack activities outside of the nigh on mandatory pack nights hosted at Derek’s or the occasional war planning but once Stiles noticed it, he couldn’t help to  _ notice  _ it. At Pack Night Peter took residence on the stairwell, still in view of the TV but far enough that no one ever came close to him when heading for drink refills, at a planning meeting at Deaton’s he stood in the corner, back to the wall, and, once, when Scott brushed by him Peter moved all the way across the room under the guise of retrieving another reference book. If there was one person to whom the wolf did get close, aside from his blood relatives it was Stiles.  So, naturally, he took it upon himself to find out why the wolf was so distant, denying a part of himself that was a  _ textbook  _ necessity. 

It started as all Stilinski plans do, subtly. Well, first it was him grabbing Peter’s arm and dragging him through the woods after a wolfsbane arrow had nearly stuck in his side until they found the rest of the pack but  _ then  _ it was subtle.

  


“What about this?” Peter walked around the table to look at the book Stiles had. Since Deaton had revealed the whole ‘Beacon Hills is actually a supernatural lighthouse’ bombshell they had been doing a lot more research. Once Peter was by his side, leaning over to look at the page Stiles began explaining why he thought the information might be useful and swayed a bit to brush their shoulders together. Peter shuffled a step to the side but didn’t leave. Stiles counted it as a win. 

Next was a brush of fingers over his back that resulted in a white-knuckled grip on the counter and a cracked tile. Stiles backed off for a bit after that but not for too long. 

It was a month of it before Peter snapped. A solid month of light brushes and barely there touch interspersed with more solid clasps and leans. It was just Stiles and the Hales in the loft, Stiles passing a water bottle off with a deliberate touch of their fingers. Peter snarled with such force that Stiles was surprised he didnt shift. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Eyes glowed blue and while it forced Stiles a step back, his own whiskey eyes wide, he wasn’t afraid. Shocked. Maybe a little hurt but that was easily pushed aside. He was used to it. 

“I just. I. I thought- I’m sorry.” Yeah, he ran after that one.

He didn’t go back to the Loft for two weeks. 

The next time he saw Peter, Stiles made sure he was as far away as possible, taking a place by Scott and refusing to look the eldest wolf in the eye and he continued in that fashion for another few weeks. Not quite leaving the room whenever the wolf was around but certainly not getting in his space. If anyone noticed it was left unsaid. 

*

“Stiles.” 

“Dude what the _**fuck**_.” Werewolves really needed to stop thinking of his window as a revolving door. His room was not free real estate. “You can’t just come in here!” But when did that ever hold true? Some things you really couldn’t will into being. Personal privacy was one of them apparently.    
He rubbed hands over his face and shut his door behind him. “What are you doing here, Peter?” 

The silence was a beat too long, Stiles not giving an inch from where he was leaned with his arms crossed. Finally, dripping with annoyance, “You stopped, I was fine before and then you had to start  _ touching _ and then you stopped and it’s not easy and I’m… I am rattled.” It was the closest he had ever heard the wolf come to rambling, rolling his shoulders and refusing to meet Stiles' eyes.  
“I need someone to touch me. Because  _ you  _ had to stick your nose where it didn’t belong and screwed my life over.”

“Why are you here?” He wants to go to bed, wants to stop playing games with the wolf. He'd been very clear in what he wanted before, Peter didn't get to break in and demand things from him. 

“You aren’t stupid.”

“You don’t trust anyone else do you?” The look he didn’t receive said it all. Stiles was a lot of things but he wasn’t cruel, at least not to those who didn’t deserve it. Maybe Peter had screwed up and hurt people and done bad things but he’d paid a lot for them and he was  _ trying  _ in Stiles’ eyes. The righteousness left him.  
“Do you want to watch a movie? I’ve got Star Wars and you kinda missed the last prequel.” And that was how Noah J. Stilinski came home to find Peter Hale on his couch with his son leaning against his legs on the floor. Raising Stiles left the bar to be surprised fairly high but it was still quite a shock. Yet it went unmentioned.

Slowly but surely it became more frequent. Peter didn’t accept the touches in front of the pack easily and there were boundaries and things they were both learning slowly but surely about each other. Stiles didn’t like any hold around his wrist, Peter didn’t do well with his neck and required a bit of warning for his left side. The touches were of a benefit for them both. Despite the increase in frequency, the restlessness in the wolf rose. It was better but it wasn't enough. 

*

“Peter?” It was just after two and the wolf was outside his window, eyes glowing faintly as his nails- nope claws. Those were claws- tapped paint chips off the frame. It was drizzling a cold rain. “Shit, come inside.” His skin was like ice when his hand brushed Stiles’ arm and the teen flinched. 

“Help me.” There wasn’t an outward sign of injury, no blood and his clothes seemed in order, barring the rain of course, but that meant little. Stiles pushed him none too harshly down onto the bed and looked him over, one hand resting on his knee. 

“What happened? What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Is it a spell? You’re freezing, here get your shoes off and I’ll run a shower” he stood to go start the water when Peter was suddenly up as well. 

“Stiles, stop. Stay. Just.” A broad hand gripped his shoulder, “Let me scent you. It will help.” 

Yeah. Okay. The teen rose and expected Peter to run the back of his hand over his cheek and neck as per usual, instead he was tugged into the wolf’s chest, a cold nose pressed against his neck. The man was drawing deep lungfuls of air in against his skin, it felt like an hour but could only have been a minute before the wolf pulled back with blazing eyes and shuddered. He sways on his feet and Stiles grabs him in turn. 

“Okay come on, shower, you’re cold and tired and acting weird. Weirder than usual and that’s a really high level of weird man.” His dad was working overnight so pulling Peter down the hall and into the bathroom isn’t half as awkward as it might have been. Meaning it was still super awkward. 

He turned on the faucet and turned to find Peter watching him intently. 

“I’m going to get some pants and food and when you get done we’re gonna talk and you can do your sniffing thing all you want as long as you tell me what’s up.” He made a strategic exit from the bathroom and considered what he was going to do. 

His dad was a little taller than Peter but closer to his size and while Stiles was of a height the wolf was broader than him. Peter wanted scent. He finds the biggest pair of sweatpants he owns and sets them outside the door before heading down to pile some food together. Fruit, cheese, a roll of Ritz crackers, wafers, and a few pre-packaged brownies and peanut butter are what he manages and he has never been so intensely aware of how little was in the cabinets. 

There’s a creak on the stairs and Stiles looked up from where he’s setting the stuff on the coffee table and freezes. He’s not sure what he expected but it wasn’t what he got. 

Peter looked far more human than he ever had as he came down the stairs. The pants were tight around his thighs and loose down to the ankles and from the waist up he’s bare-chested. Which, really Stiles should have expected since he hadn’t loaned the wolf a shirt along with the pants. His hair is damp, not at all styled, and he looks almost unsure. He looked tired.

  


“Come on, sit down.” Peter rounded the end of the couch and snagged the throw blanket off the back of the chair to the right, he’d been over enough to find it familiar. With it wrapped around his shoulders he settled down and reached for the tangerine Stiles had brought out. A few minutes passed by in quiet before Peter seemed to sag and Stiles moved closer to press them together from shoulder to elbow. The wolf just leaned even closer and before long Stiles simply wrapped an arm around his shoulders and held on. 

“Thank you.” 

  
Stiles just held him closer.


End file.
